Chapter Three Lyra
I got a job!” I squealed, banging the door open to the house.
“I thought you had a job?” Nova asked from where she was slumped in a chair, sketch pad in hand. Nova was my younger sister, the exact opposite of me, and one of my favorite people in the world. Despite her annoying habit of using logic and sarcasm to navigate her way through life.
“I mean, I do. But that almost feels like a hobby I’ve been able to monetize.
” My YouTube channel had really developed from just that—a hobby I loved sharing with the world—to a viable stream of income.
But I’d never actually had a real job before, not one where I had to show up on time and work under an actual boss, due to the pesky nature of the curse that plagued the MacGregor bloodline.
A curse I was doing my damnedest to ignore.
For years, my sisters and I had lived like nomads, packing up every three to six months and fleeing town after town.
Running—that’s the more honest word. A furious witch had cursed our ancestor, Bonelle MacGregor, and every MacGregor since had been unable to put down roots.
No matter how badly we wanted to belong, the curse made every new home unbearable within months.
We’d recently returned to our childhood home in Briarhaven, and miraculously, Sloane cracked a third of the curse, buying us, and the town, some breathing room. The Charms, our local coven, had been working nonstop ever since to keep the rest of the curse from coming back.
I’d like to say I was helping, too, but fate had decided to play a mean trick on me because my magick never showed up on my twenty-fifth birthday like it did for every other witch we knew.
“And somehow you thought it would be more fun to work for someone else?” Nova arched a brow at me, pulling me from my thoughts. She wore ripped jeans and a Pixies T-shirt, and had her dark hair wrapped into two space buns on either side of her head.
“Of course it will,” I trilled, dropping my handbag onto the side table and skipping across the room.
Bending, I kissed Nova’s cheek and then gravitated automatically toward the kitchen—my happy place.
“I mean, Marcie’s terrifying. But she knows so much.
Just think of what I could learn from her.
And you know I learn better by being hands-on. ”
I crinkled my nose. A memory of throwing schoolbooks against the wall in frustration flashed through my mind.
Seeing the look on my face, Nova winced.
She’d witnessed my frustration with paying attention to lessons in school.
It was one of the reasons why I’d flourished when I had finally been able to work for myself.
It was best if I did things on my own terms and at my own pace.
“So long as she’s nice to you. I’m not sure I can win in a fight against her.”
I laughed. It had always been this way—my sisters and me against the world.
“I don’t think you’ll need to throw down. In fact… I even saw her smile today.”
Nova gasped, almost dropping her sketch pad, and I nodded in agreement. Reaching into the fridge, I found a ripe tomato and a fresh ball of mozzarella and pulled them out to put on the chopping board.
“I have never seen that woman smile. She just… doles out baked goods with a militant efficiency that would make my heart warm if I wasn’t scared of showing emotion around her.”
“I swear to the goddess, Nova, I almost turned tail and ran. If she hadn’t asked me to lock the door seconds after I’d seen the smile, I might have.”
Intrigued, Nova tossed her sketch pad onto the table and swung her legs to hang over the side of the chair.
“Why in the world would Marcie ask you to lock up at this time of day?” Nova glanced at the Apple Watch on her wrist and then squinted in confusion at the window, where it was dark as night outside. “Wait—”
“Oh, good, you’re both home.” The front door swung open, bringing with it a sharp gust of wind carrying the smell of damp earth.
Sloane, my older sister, dressed in leggings, UGG boots, and an oversized jumper, carried her emberwolf, Blue, through the open door.
Broca, our grandmother, glided inside after her, wearing houndstooth culottes, caramel knee-high boots, and a mossy knit jumper.
There was barely a hitch to her step, as she’d almost fully recovered from her hip surgery.
Her falcon, Iris, sat on her shoulder. “We’ve got a problem. ”
“Wait, I want to know why Marcie locked Lyra in the bakery,” Nova protested, pushing her lower lip out.
“She locked you in the bakery?” Sloane’s voice sharpened, and I laughed, putting my hands in the air.
Blue struggled from her arms and took flight, landing clumsily on the countertop, his tongue lolling from his mouth.
Blue looked mostly like a gray Boston Terrier would, aside from the gorgeous dragon wings that were tucked at his back.
His favorite food was cheese, and his eyes were currently glued to the mozzarella on my cutting board.
“Stand down, soldier.” Pulling out my favorite knife, I sliced the mozzarella and handed a delighted Blue a piece. “She asked me to lock the door behind me so she could quietly freak out about some most excellent news.”
“What news?” Broca asked, pulling her leather driving gloves off and putting them in a bowl on the side table by the door. Iris flew from her shoulder to her favorite perch at the top of the kitchen cabinets, where she could watch everyone below her.
The main floor of our wee house was one large open room.
The kitchen stood at the back of the house, anchoring the room, and a couch and two faded armchairs were tucked under a large picture window that looked out over the street.
On the other side of the front door, a long dining table lined the wall.
Two pillars stood in the middle of the room, the foundational supports my father had been unable to get rid of when they’d renovated the space into one big room, and they still bore the marks of our height growth through the years.
“They’re going to film Bewitching Bake Off’s Christmas special here in Briarhaven in two weeks!” I squealed, bouncing on my feet. “And I get to audition for it!”
“No way!” Sloane beamed at me and crossed the room to give me a hug. “That’s cracking news.”
“Oh, Lyra, you’ll be perfect for this.” Broca joined us in the kitchen and pressed a kiss to my cheek. “You’re just a natural for television.”
“Thank you,” I said, doing a little shimmy. This news was far too exciting to sit still over. Sloane leaned away from the knife I still held in my hand.
“Easy there, killer.”
“Och, right.” I laughed and returned to the cutting board. “But Marcie has agreed to hire me to work at the bakery. So maybe she can teach me the magick she uses in her recipes, or at least some of it, before filming starts. If I get cast, that is.”
“You’ll get cast.” Sloane heaved herself up onto the counter, next to Blue, reminding me of all the times we’d sat like this—Nova sketching in her chair, Sloane on the counter—while I put together meals for our wee family.
“But we do need to talk about your magick.” Broca put the kettle on and reached for her favorite teacup, one with dragons etched in gold on the side. “Have you looked outside?”
We all turned to look out the front window where darkness blanketed the street.
“Oh.” My stomach dropped. While I’d noticed the strange darkness, I’d been too caught up in my excitement over the reality show and my new employment to give it too much thought.
It wasn’t entirely unusual for Scotland to go gray and murky in the fall, so it hadn’t really pinged my radar as being something more ominous.
A knock sounded, sending Blue into a cacophony of barking as he took flight toward the front door.
“Expecting someone?” Nova asked, catching Blue and cradling him to her chest before opening the door.
“Emergency Charms meeting,” Sloane said, and my cheerful mood plummeted.
The Charms were the coven we’d inherited legacy seats on when we’d returned to Briarhaven.
Sloane had resisted their help and sisterhood, yet somehow had found herself president by the time her side of the curse was broken.
I’d always been more open to embracing our witchy ways, and being a part of a coven had excited me.
Until the focus had turned to me and magick. Or lack thereof, apparently. We’d been trying to think of ways to bloom my magick, but so far, nothing had worked.
As a witch? I was a failure.
“Hiya, Tam, Felicity,” Nova said, ushering two women inside. Tam, a lanky woman with short, cropped hair and a penchant for early-morning runs, followed Felicity, a blowsy mum with an overly stuffed tote bag, into the house. Nova peeked her head outside. “No Deidre or Raven?”
“Both are at work. But with most of us here we should be able to crack on all right, no?” Tam asked, reaching out to scratch Blue’s ears.
“What about Mandy?” I asked. Everyone in the room stilled.
Mandy Meadows, the previous president of the Charms, had been formally voted out when our grandmother had invoked an emergency coven ordinance.
Since that time, Mandy had refused to attend another coven meeting, and despite our attempts to reach out to her, she’d largely become a shut-in.
Which, technically, made running a coven a touch tricky without all members at our disposal.
I liked to believe in the good in everyone, and though Sloane was more than happy to ignore our former president, I couldn’t help but feel bad for her.
The Charms had been Mandy’s entire world.
“Mandy was unreachable.” Sloane hopped off the counter and motioned for me to join them at the dining table.
Quickly, I chopped up some basil I pulled from a pot by the back window, drizzled some olive oil and balsamic over the tomato and mozzarella, and then added a few wedges of focaccia to the side.
Carrying it over to where the women chattered around the table, I put the tray down, away from Blue’s excited face, and dropped into a chair.
“Oh, this looks delicious.” Felicity shoved some loose hair back into her scrunchie and reached for the cheese.
“No protein in sight.” Tam shook her head sadly.
“Cheese is protein,” Felicity argued, indignant.
“It is, but is it quality protein?”
Blue lunged forward and snuck a piece from the plate, and I swallowed a laugh.
“He seems to think so,” Broca said, waving a pink-tipped finger in the air. “Ladies. Enough. The darkness?”
We all hushed and turned toward the window. There was no disguising the lack of light outside as bad weather or just a storm blowing through, particularly because even from here I could make out the stars pricking the inky sky.
“What time is it again?” I asked, worry gnawing at my gut.
“Just past eleven,” Nova said, checking her watch. In the morning.
“We’re still going to have the Mabon festival this weekend, right?” Felicity’s eyes rounded as she turned to Sloane. “I’d promised the kids they might get to see dragons.”
“Surely there’s more important—”
“Yes, we’ll still be hosting the festival,” Broca said over Sloane, who sighed and slumped back into her chair.
She, much to her annoyance, as she wasn’t much of a party planner, was hosting a Mabon festival for Briarhaven.
It was being held up in the hills, near where our father lived with the dragons, and the entire town was buzzing with excitement over the prospect of their first proper party with the dragons.
“I’m really looking forward to it,” I said, reaching out to squeeze Sloane’s arm. “It’ll give us a chance to connect with Dad more. And who knows? Maybe being around the dragons will help my magick come to the surface.”
“Still nothing?” Felicity asked, a sympathetic expression on her face. My shoulders hunched as I gave a sad shake of my head.
“That would be epic to finally get your magick during a dragon party. Maybe you’ll shoot lasers out of your bum,” Nova said, and I slid her a baleful glance.
“If so, I hope they shoot sparkles everywhere,” I deadpanned, and she grinned.
“I’m calling you Sparklefarts from now on,” Nova said.
“Fine by me, Shorts.” Nova’s eyes rounded as I used a nickname I had sworn to never use again after an unfortunate food poisoning incident had caused Nova to soil a favorite pair of shorts.
“Ew,” Sloane said, closing her eyes, clearly recalling that particular day.
“Ladies!” Broca clapped her hands, and we snapped back to attention. “Can we pay attention to the darkness?”
“I don’t like the way you say it. Like it’s the plague or something.” I shifted in my chair, uncomfortable.
“Are the wards not holding anymore?” Tam asked.
Last year, we’d placed wards with the fae who lived in the hills around Briarhaven to help shroud Sloane’s curse.
So far, together with the Charms working their spells, the wards had held, and everyone in Briarhaven had enjoyed a relatively curse-free year.
“They’re not, no. With the loss of Mandy’s help, they’ve slowly waned in strength.
And if this is truly what we think it is, well, it’s going to be even harder to disguise from the news than the snow was with Sloane’s curse.
” Broca gave me a sympathetic look. The last iteration of our curse had come when Sloane had stepped into her powers and constant and unrelenting snow had been unleashed on Briarhaven.
My breath caught. “The show.”
“What show?” Felicity reached for another piece of cheese and blinked at us.
“They’re going to film Bewitching Bake Off’s Christmas special here.”
Felicity shrieked and Blue tumbled off the table, catching himself before he hit the ground and soaring around the room, barking hysterically.
“Sorry, I’m sorry. Sorry, Blue.” Felicity held a hand to her heart, bouncing in her seat. “Seriously, though? That’s my favorite show.”
“Mine too.” Felicity and I shared mutual looks of understanding across the table.
“It’s most magickals’ favorite show,” Broca said. There were communities like Briarhaven all over the world, a magickal network of those who lived their lives on the fringes of society, and apparently, Bewitching Bake Off was a hit with them all. “Which means…”
“We have a massive problem,” Sloane said, and my excitement fell off a cliff.